


Titans Remembered

by klove0511



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Dean Winchester, Animal Sacrifice, Animal Transformation, Attempted Bestiality, Case Fic, Episode: s08e16 Remember the Titans, Established Relationship, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klove0511/pseuds/klove0511
Summary: Following a string of missing people and livestock mutilations, Sam and Dean stumble on a case where the monster has a personal beef with them. When Dean gets himself in trouble trying to do everything himself, Sam must come to the rescue and remind him that they're better as a team.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57
Collections: Wincest Reverse Bang





	Titans Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Wincest Reverse Bang, and inspired by the wonderful art of [ Midnight Silver](https://midnightsilver.tumblr.com/) Go check out the art post and give them some love! Art post is here: <https://midnightsilver.tumblr.com/post/621797550747500544/dean-that-isnt-helping-my-art-prompt-for-the>
> 
> And a quick note about the bestiality tag: It's brief and completely non-graphic, but I figured it would squick some people so I tagged it. And if you came here looking for some inter-species freaky sex, you will want to look elsewhere. This is not that.

Dean glanced at the clock for the fifth time in two minutes. He was bored, and he wished he'd pushed harder to go with Sam to interview the witnesses. Their interview styles complemented each other, and sometimes that got them more information than they would get alone. Besides, it got him out of research. He sighed and clicked open a new browser window. Something wasn't sitting right about this case, but he couldn’t figure out what. He’d learned to trust his instincts, though. He mentally reviewed what they knew from the news articles that had brought them here and away from their research on the Darkness. Four missing people in the last two weeks, with multiple more over the last three years, unrelated and having nothing obvious in common. A rash of livestock mutilations in the same time period that included a wide variety of animals from the usual cows to pigs and sheep. Their working theory was a demon, but Dean's gut said they were on the wrong track there. There weren't enough other demonic omens, and while cattle mutilations were a common sign, other types of livestock were usually left alone. It was possible that the animals were unconnected, but he doubted it. Rubbing his hands down his face, he groaned and mentally ran through the list of monsters they knew about. No bodies, no full moon and no missing hearts said it probably wasn't a werewolf. No reports of seeing double or people suddenly acting weird, so not a shifter. No throats torn open, not a vamp. Just missing people and dead animals. 

He clenched his jaw and bounced his knee in frustration. The information he had to work with was too vague. Lots of things took people. Ghosts—not likely because as far as they could tell the victims hadn’t gone to a common location, demons—still possible, though Dean thought it unlikely, and even just...people. He hoped it wasn't people. Remembering finding Sam locked up in a cage was a bad memory he had no desire to relive any time soon. In any case, the missing people were an angle that he felt wasn't going to give him any leads in the motel room since they’d already scoured the police reports for useful information. Maybe Sam would turn something up in his interviews. Instead, Dean turned his attention to the animals. He flipped through photos of the dead livestock and shuddered. He may not be a fan of animals in general, but nothing deserved to die like that. Nothing obvious in the photos to point to a bad guy though. Next he ran through the police reports. Huh. No farmers had reported missing animals. That was interesting, and he was surprised Sam hadn't mentioned it when he'd been selling Dean on the case.

They had been all found out in the woods, by hikers. But, if no livestock had gone missing, then where did the animals come from? What the hell were a couple pigs and a sheep doing in the forest? Twenty minutes of digging later, and he had a sick feeling that he knew what had happened to the missing people. He always hated learning they were too late to save the victims; it was the only possible upside to missing persons cases, the hope that maybe they weren't too late for a rescue. At least they could end whatever did this and prevent anyone else from being first transformed and then eviscerated. 

He ran through the list of monsters again. The numbers of things that could shapeshift themselves was disappointingly large, but the number of things that could transform others was a lot smaller. Witches, if they were powerful enough, though they weren’t seeing any other signs of witchcraft. Possibly some varieties of Fae, but the lore was pretty sketchy on them. And finally, gods. Mythologies were rife with gods that turned people into anything from a spider to a flower, and Dean was pretty sure he was still just in the Greek pantheon. The question was: which god? And, maybe more importantly, why these people? What earned them a spot on the sacrificial altar? If he could answer that, then he might have a leg up in figuring out which god was behind this.

Two hours later, Dean rubbed at his tired eyes. He really hated research. But he had an answer. A horrible, no good, very bad answer. Sam was in danger. They both were.

Sam loosened his tie and wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. It was humid and uncomfortably warm for an early April day, even this far south. He thought of Dean in the motel air conditioning, probably day drinking and enjoying the Magic Fingers instead of actually researching, and he had to fight an unjustified flare of resentment. It had been Sam's idea to split up, and he'd been the one to offer to go out in the heat and interview people. Sure, he'd expected Dean to fight him on it—either to go together or to switch and get himself out of research duties—but he hadn't, and Sam was stuck with a miserable job. He was wearing his Fed suit, and the cheap material didn't breathe at all, trapping body heat and sweat alike, which combined with the heat and humidity left the suit drenched, hanging heavy on his tall frame. He longed for a shower, and he didn't even care that Dean would try to join him. The heat always made Dean horny, and if it got Sam out of his suit sooner rather than later, then he was on board no matter how gross he felt. 

Besides, unless Dean had gotten a lead there wasn't much else they could do today. Tomorrow they'd hit up the morgue and local farmers, follow the animal angle and see if it led anywhere. The families of the victims had been frustratingly unhelpful. Everyone had been perfectly polite and happy to talk, but no one had said anything that seemed remotely useful, just things like Jeremy loved to go rock climbing, or Rebecca had been spending a lot of time at the gym lately. Boring trivia about their lives that probably wasn’t relevant. Not that he hadn't paid attention, because the stupid trivia had a nasty habit of becoming relevant as soon as you stopped paying attention to it. Still, he wasn’t seeing a common thread among the victims yet, which meant they were stuck on this angle.

Sam was hit with a wave of heat as he opened the Impala’s door. The car was sweltering, and Sam winced as he tried touching the steering wheel. It burned, and he grit his teeth before turning on the car and driving back to the motel, hoping he’d manage to not drown in his own sweat before he got there. 

He blamed the truly excessive heat for the fact that he didn't immediately notice something was wrong when he opened the door. Instead, he tossed the keys on the small kitchenette counter and shrugged off his suitcoat, slinging it over the back of a chair. He noticed Dean wasn't on the laptop but that there were enough notes and general chaos to indicate he'd actually been working. Sam assumed he'd stopped for a nap or a shower or a session with the Magic Fingers, and his gaze traveled to the bed, looking for Dean. He found a lion instead. 

An actual, honest to God, much bigger than Sam, African male lion. Napping on the bed. Sam froze, wondering if he should go for his gun. Then he wondered how a _lion_ had gotten into the locked motel room and what the hell had happened to Dean. He was debating his options for not getting eaten by an apex predator when the lion blinked awake, and Sam's heart jumped into his throat. Given their line of work, he was not a man easily scared, but seeing a big cat not ten feet away brought new meaning to the word intimidating. Except... the lion had startling, unnatural _green_ eyes. Familiar eyes. In a flash of horror, everything clicked into place--the lion, Dean's apparent absence, the animal mutilations and missing people. He managed to keep the panic out of his voice when he breathed, " _Dean?_ "

Dean watched his brother eyeing him warily. Sam was on the couch with his laptop, relaxed enough to have removed his tie in addition to the suitcoat, but the tension in his shoulders told Dean he was far from relaxed. It was fair, he supposed. Sam had no way to know if he really was Dean or if he was just a remarkably calm lion, and Dean had no way to tell him. In between guarded glances, Dean was pretty sure Sam was still researching the case, probably trying to retrace Dean’s search history to figure out where he would have had a run in with the monster of the week.

He watched his brother work from his place on the bed. He’d adapted well enough to walking with four legs, but in the small motel room his bulk was a hindrance. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was missing a lot of the grace he’d learned to associate with cats. So, he stayed put. No need to let Sam see him faceplant off the side of the bed because he got tangled in the comforter. Again. That said, he was going to have to figure something out soon. The only reason he’d gone into the woods alone in the first place was so he could deal with the monster without putting Sam at risk. Now that he was a freaking lion, Sam was left to try to figure out the whole case on his own, definitely putting himself at risk. Dean’s plan had backfired, and what he really wanted to do now was load Sam into the car, turn tail, and run. 

It wasn’t something they did, abandoning cases. But Sam had just recovered from his near miss in Idaho, and they had just moved things between them to the next level. When Dean thought of those pictures of animal entrails, he felt sick imagining them belonging to Sam. So he was going to do his older brother duty and make sure they got their asses out of here before they both got killed.

Maybe he could distract Sam into forgetting about the research. It would be a temporary fix, but it could buy him some time. And Sam _did_ look pretty hot in his Fed suit, with just the top few buttons left open. There was a trickle of sweat that had made its home in the hollow of his throat, and Dean decided that he really didn’t care if he was a lion or not. He was going to go for it.

Getting up and very carefully hopping off the bed, he crossed the short distance to Sam, not caring that he knocked over a lamp in the process (seriously, just how long was his damn tail anyway?) He nosed at the laptop briefly before pressing his huge paw in and shutting the damn thing. Not wanting to crush Sam, he moved the paw to the side, steadying himself against the couch as he leaned in, roughly licking up the sweat from Sam’s neck.

Sam didn’t react at all until Dean started nuzzling significantly lower, at which point he squawked indignantly and shoved Dean’s nose away from his pants. “What the hell, dude?” he yelled, using the laptop as a shield. “For a second, I thought you were going to eat me.”

Dean gave Sam his best leer, trying to communicate silently that “eating” had definitely been part of the plan. It must have worked because Sam responded with disgusted outrage.

“At least I know it’s really you,” Sam said.

Sam frowned at his brother, then at the closed laptop. He didn't understand how Dean could behave this way. Well, no, he did. It was Dean. But still. Sam was trying to help, to turn him back before he got killed or before he couldn't BE turned back. That was the last thing he'd managed to read before Dean had closed the laptop and decided that he wanted to give inter-species sex a try. Shape shifting spells almost always had a time limit, and they were never long. And at the end of the time limit, your carriage didn't turn back into a pumpkin. He needed information. What had turned Dean? What the hell were they hunting? And how long did he have before he needed to consider whether or not he had any latent furry kinks he wasn't aware of? Because not being with Dean wasn't really an option. He needed to fix this, soon. 

The internet history had been confusing at best. Mythologies and animal mutilations, which told Sam that Dean clearly thought they were dealing with a god of some sort. But the websites had been across a dozen pantheons, and he hadn't spotted any that contained a god that liked to kidnap people. All of them liked animal sacrifices, so that was equally unhelpful. Then again, he was still working from the theory that the people had been taken, and the animals had been sacrificed, and it was all separate but related. His eyes landed on his brother, in all his lion glory, and Sam knew exactly what Dean had been looking for. 

The problem was that there were still dozens of possibilities. He scanned the reports of the animal killings again. Their throats had been slit, and the entrails removed and scattered. Ritualistic sacrifice. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. Then he reviewed the missing persons reports and his own notes. There had to be something here that linked everyone, that pointed him to the deity behind this. If he cross-referenced missing people and animal mutilations over the last three years, they had almost a dozen victims, more or less evenly split by gender. Age wise they clustered in their 20s and 30s, and the ones he’d gotten information on today were all fairly active. His notes indicated at least two had enjoyed hiking. So, possibly they had all gone hiking in the woods where the animals had been found, encountered this pagan god, and then been transformed and killed. 

He yelped when Dean nuzzled his feet. The lion just blinked innocently at him, but he knew better. Dean was being distracting on purpose, and he knew Sam had ticklish feet. "Why are you like this?" he asked, frustration coloring his voice. He loved Dean, but sometimes the pull of being an annoying older brother seemed to overshadow everything else, and the new dynamic to their relationship hadn’t helped. "You do realize you could be stuck like this. Forever."

An impassive stare met him. 

Sam sighed. "I'm trying to save you. Save civilians. Just because you're out of commission for research at the moment doesn't mean this monster is going to stop, and it's our case. It's our job to stop it. I know you know that. So, what the hell? Why are trying to keep me from working this?"

Nothing, of course. Sam wasn't sure what he was expecting, because obviously Dean couldn't answer him. He'd just hoped for...something. Any sort of reaction. Maybe it was time to make an alphabet out of pieces of paper and see if Dean could still read. 

He shook his head. "I'm going to work this case, and I'm going to figure out how to change you back. And you can be as distracting as you want, but it's not going to change my mind." He picked at his fingernails. "I realize you're probably just worried that I'm going to get transformed too and then we'll both get killed. But give me some credit. We've faced off with a lot of scary things before, and we're still here."

Dean was torn between rolling his eyes and giving in to the urge to whip out sad kitten eyes and see how they affected Sam. That speech had been so sappy. So Sam. His stubbornness was going to get them both killed someday. He huffed a dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, probably a beat too late to seem natural. Sam knew they were hunting a god, but he hadn't figured out they were hunting a god with a personal vendetta against them. Dean had only suspected when he'd gone into the woods, but his first meeting with her had proven him unfortunately right.

_Dean consulted his map and drew his gun. He had to be getting close to the first site where the animals had been found. It had been months ago, so he didn't expect there to be any evidence remaining, but at least he knew it was a hunting site for their monster. His prime suspect was Hera. She had a hard-on for turning people into animals, and she was known for being particularly nasty when she was mad. And Dean suspected that she'd been mad ever since Zeus had died two years ago, which lined up well with when the killings had started. It was admittedly thin evidence, but they'd gone into hunts with less._

_He heard a stick break to his left, and he froze, eyes searching for movement in the trees. Everything was quiet and still, eerie in its silence. Like the world was holding its breath. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he knew he was screwed._

_"Dear Hunter. You will make such a tasty meal," a woman's voice breathed into his ear. She sounded amused, pleased to have found him._

_"Don't do this," he said, pitching his voice low and threatening to cover the fear eating at his guts._

_"But why not, little Hunter? You and yours killed my husband. I will enjoy making you pay. Your goddess cannot protect you from my wrath."_

_He laughed with false bravado. "Do you even know who I am?"_

_She laughed in turn, a light, lilting sound. "Of course I do, Dean Winchester. And I know you killed my husband." The lightness of her tone dropped a stone of fear deep into his stomach. He was so screwed._

_Warm magic wrapped around his mind, and then his body was in agony. He screamed as his bones rearranged themselves, and it came out as a mangled roar. He fell, writhing to the forest floor as he grew, stretching and gaining muscle mass until he felt massive, heavy and powerful. The fur growing in everywhere itched, but he couldn't do anything about it because he just hurt too much._

_But he had to move. Hera was coming for him, and he couldn't let her. She knew who he was, so she would definitely be going after Sam next. Groaning, he pried open his eyes, searching the forest for the matriarch of the Greek Pantheon. He found her, but he wasn't expecting the look of horror on her face. As he struggled to his feet, she turned and ran, vanishing among the trees._

_It made no sense, but he was grateful for the reprieve, especially since he felt himself losing the battle with consciousness._

She was still out there, and she was hunting them. Dean didn't know or care why she hadn't finished him off when she could, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity to make a clean getaway slip by.

But deep down, he knew it was a futile effort. They weren't made to run away. It wasn't in the Winchester blood to run from a dangerous situation, and that had been true not only of them and their dad, but even their grandfather. Sam wasn't going to leave. So, Dean was going to have to figure out how to keep him safe. Which, considering he was a feline of unusual size might not actually be that difficult.

Sam watched Dean process his words, and he swore he could see the thought process happening. First derision, then fondness, and finally acceptance. Good. He pulled out some scrap paper and started making letters. "Now that we're on the same page, can you please tell me what the hell we're hunting?"

It took longer than it should have, because apparently, despite having good eyesight, being a lion hampered Dean enough that reading was difficult unless the letters were very big. Which was how Sam ended up surrounded by pieces of paper and a lion squinting comically at each one before picking up four and handed them over one at a time. H-E-R-A. Immediate recognition of the name made Sam curse and turn on Dean. "You tried to take on _Hera_ by yourself? What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. "According to the lore, even Zeus was scared of her when she was pissed."

If it was possible for a lion to shrug, that's what Dean did. At least his obnoxious behavior made more sense now.

"Dude, I love you, but you cannot keep doing shit like this. I'm not broken. And if you want us to pass on a case because the monster might, I don't know, have a _personal vendetta against us_ , then I'd appreciate it if you actually talked to me about it. Like the adult you supposedly are." 

Dean had the decency to look properly chagrined. 

Sam moved to the bed and settled himself against the headboard. "At least now I have a place to start." He gave Dean a serious look. "I'm going to fix this. I promise."

Dean had been napping pressed against Sam's legs for an hour when Sam finally struck gold. His shout woke Dean, who was just as scary when startled in lion form as he was in human form. At least he couldn't use a gun like this. "So, get this, a number of the Greek gods are reportedly weak to the things they consider sacred. Basically, they treat the thing with so much respect that it becomes lethal to them if used as a weapon. In Hera's case, most of those things are not especially useful unless we’re poisoning her, like apples and pomegranates. We can probably get our hands on some willow to use as stakes, but the real kicker is this: while she's mostly associated with cows and peacocks, she is also sometimes associated with _lions._ "

Dean's still sleepy, confused eyes met Sam's, and they stared at each other for a moment before Dean's eyes widened in understanding. 

"Yeah. We just need to get you close," Sam said, grinning. 

A grumble from Dean made Sam look up from his laptop again a minute or two later. Dean's face looked concerned, and it took a while for Sam to figure it out. 

He was quiet but confident when he said, "I'm still working on that part, but you aren't going to be a lion forever. You'll get to drive your Baby again, I swear." He laughed at Dean's disgruntled huff. "I can't wait to find out how you fit in the backseat, though. And no bitching about the fur later. It's _your fur_."

Dean produced more angry rumbles, but Sam swore he looked amused too as he dropped his head onto his massive paws. It was still astonishing just how big he was like this. Sam wasn't used to being the small one in their relationship, but lion Dean dwarfed him with a body over seven feet long, not including his tail. Frankly, it was a miracle the crappy motel bed was able to withstand the combined weight of both of them. The amount of muscle packed on his feline frame was ridiculous, and Sam figured he must weigh over 500 pounds. He certainly wasn't going to bet against his brother in the upcoming fight. 

In the end, they were forced to go with their usual plan of “kill the monster and hope for the best” to try to turn Dean back. It wasn’t ideal, but Sam hadn’t been able to find any lore about undoing a transformation, and he wasn’t willing to wait anymore. When they loaded up, Dean fit in the backseat, barely, and he growled the entire trip out to the woods where Hera had been killing people and where they hoped she would still be. 

"You realize this is your own fault, right? If you hadn't decided to try to hunt a literal Greek god by yourself, then you could've driven," Sam said, tone dry even as he laughed in his head at Dean's grumpy face. 

Dean didn't dignify that quip with a response, which took more self-control than Sam would have usually given him. When he was human again, he was going to make sure Sam knew that he'd chosen to be the bigger brother. Literally, for once. He smirked and chuckled at his own joke, which came out as more of an annoyed growl. Whatever. Maybe Sam would stop giving him a hard time about running off on his own if he thought Dean was pissed.

The woods were dark and hopefully deserted other than their target. The last thing they wanted was to stumble across a pair of horny teenagers using the woods to get some privacy. They stuck to the path at first, which helped them avoid making extra noise from the dry underbrush but left them open and visible in a way that Dean did not appreciate. However, he was loving his new super-powered eyes that let him see in the almost pitch-black forest. Sam had insisted on taking point with a flashlight, but Dean could see into the dim areas on each side of the path almost as well as he had in the daylight. His nose told him that there were nocturnal animals out and about, but he couldn't see movement. Either they were close, or the opossums and foxes all recognized him as a predator that could eat them if he really wanted to. Not that he was sure he could catch anything like this. 

He'd adapted well enough to running and walking on four legs. It was just how this body moved best. But anything more coordinated was going to be interesting. He hadn’t done too badly once he’d gotten out of the motel room, but he’d been trying to project confidence for Sam's sake. Besides, he needed to believe in his ability to do this or else he was going to get them both killed. Sam wasn't defenseless, but he didn't have the mass and raw power that an oversized lion or a god did. He did, however, have a willow stake and a familiarity with how his body was supposed to move that Dean was currently lacking. 

They crept along as silently as Sam could manage, which to Dean seemed excessively loud, until Dean heard leaves shifting in the distance. He gently bit the bottom of Sam's jacket and tugged backward, a signal Sam had decided they should use on the ride over. Sam immediately froze and killed the flashlight. Dean strained his ears for any sounds, easier now that Sam wasn't drowning everything out just by walking. There was definitely something in the woods ahead of them and to their left. Bigger than the rodents he heard scurrying through the underbrush. He moved around Sam, crouching lower to the ground on instinct as he prowled, leaving the path behind him. He didn't see movement ahead yet, but the noise was still distant, farther than he could see through the foliage. 

He paused and made a soft noise to signal Sam to follow, then continued on. While he'd felt clumsy in the motel, he didn't feel that way now. Even though lions were made for the open plains, he felt comfortable moving through the trees silently, closing in on his prey. He heard Sam click the light back on, knew his brother couldn't navigate the undergrowth safely without it. Luckily, Sam was intelligent enough to hang back enough that Hera might not see him coming even if Sam alerted her to their presence. They continued on that way for several minutes, Dean's pace slowing as they approached. 

Finally, he stopped completely, crouching in the low bushes and watching Hera move around a small clearing, brightly lit by the moonlight that hadn't been able to filter through the trees. She had a pair of goats in front of her, tied up on a simple stone altar. Sam and Dean hadn't found any teenagers, but it looked like maybe Hera had. Slowly she circled them, monologuing like a James Bond villain. She seemed unaware that she might have company. 

"--filthy teenage boy! He isn't even _faithful_ to you; did you know that?" She spat the words at the pair, shaking her head in disgust. "And you just let him do as he pleases. You are both disgusting. May your sacrifice to the goddess Hera cleanse and purify you both." With that, she pulled a wicked looking knife from thin air and raised it in preparation to slit the first goat's throat.

Dean, already tensed to pounce, leapt from the undergrowth and tackled Hera to the ground, claws and teeth swiping furiously at the goddess. She screamed in pain but fought back, throwing Dean across the clearing. He flew into a tree trunk with a sickening thud and felt something crack. He growled as he picked himself up, whimpering when he put weight on his front left leg. She had managed to get him with that knife after all. Hera was facing him, giving him all of her attention. Good. At least the kids weren't in immediate danger now. There was movement behind her that caught Dean's eye, and he spotted Sam creeping across the clearing, willow stake in hand and poised to strike. He frowned when he saw Dean limp closer to Hera, but then his face set in determination and he gripped the stake tighter. Dean just needed to keep her attention on himself, and he'd give Sam the opening he needed. Easy.

He growled, quiet at first as he tested it, lowering the pitch just a touch to be more threatening, and then he let it grow in intensity and volume until the noise filled the clearing. The goats on the altar struggled against their bonds frantically, and even Hera's eyes widened slightly in fear. Lowering his head, he stalked toward her, ignoring the pain in his leg and keeping his gait as steady as he could. It only took a couple steps to get to within striking distance, and Sam was close, almost close enough to make his move. Dean tensed and leapt at her, catching another swipe from her blade as she tried to fend him off. The pain just made him roar, mouth wide and baring his teeth as he lunged for her neck. He landed with his paws on her shoulders, but she didn't go down. Not that he'd planned on that. Instead of pushing her away and down, he pulled her to him, exposing her back to Sam's stake. 

Sam stabbed her, and Dean watched her eyes go wide in surprise, then soften with just a touch of grudging respect. And then she was gone. Nothing happened for a moment after her limp body slid out of Dean's grip and they both landed hard on the ground. Then Dean's world exploded in pain once more.

Sam watched helplessly as Dean writhed and his body shifted back to human form. Hera was dead, and the curse was broken. They had done it. He hated seeing Dean in pain, but that didn’t stop the relief he felt. He got to have his brother back.

Twin groans of pain from the altar drew his attention to the newly transformed teenagers tied up there. He freed them and giving them a brief explanation of what had happened. They were scared and confused, but they at least seemed to believe him when he said it was over and they’d be ok.

With the victims relatively dealt with, he turned back to his brother. Dean was human again, laying on the ground, thankfully fully clothed. He was panting, which didn't surprise Sam. The transformation process looked like it hurt, and besides that, Dean had taken a few good hits in the fight. It was a normal reaction to pain, and he reminded himself of that as he jogged across the clearing. Of course, that did little to quell the worry blooming in his chest as Dean continued to lay on the ground without trying to get up. 

Sam slid into a kneel beside his brother and immediately spotted the blood that hadn't been visible during the transformation process but was now coloring Dean's arm a dark red. "Dean?" he said, reaching out to turn Dean onto his back. That's when he saw the second knife wound, a deep cut in Dean's abdomen that had already turned his shirt into a sticky mess. "Shit." Sam shucked his flannel overshirt quickly and pressed it to the wound, pressing Dean's hands over it. "Hold pressure there, ok? We're going to get you to a hospital, and you're going to be fine." He could hear the panic lacing his voice, but he hoped Dean couldn't. At least they weren’t far from civilization this time. Hera had set up shop deep in the woods, but thanks to a proliferation of parking lots in the state park, they were only about half a mile from the car.

"Can you walk?" he asked. 

Dean nodded, shaky. The lack of smartass remarks worried Sam, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He pulled Dean to his feet and together they trudged to the Impala. Sam made good time installing Dean in the back seat and driving to the hospital, a story about how they'd been mugged at knifepoint ready for when they arrived at the emergency room. 

Hours later, Dean blinked awake in a hospital bed, wrapped in a comfortable pain medication haze. Sam was in the chair next to him, passed out and snoring. Dean smiled softly as he eyed Sam, looking for signs that he'd been hurt too. His little brother looked intact, at least, and Dean felt sore but not like he'd been on the brink of death for once. 

They ended up releasing him from the hospital that afternoon with a prescription for the good painkillers and strict instructions to rest. He would, while they drove. Holding his hand out for the keys, he smirked when Sam shot him a bitchface. 

"You just got out of the hospital. No. I'm driving," Sam said.

"Oh, come on, Sammy. It's barely a scratch. I can drive," he said, even as he grinned wide and dropped his hand, moving to the passenger side without Sam having to make another argument. It had been for show anyhow; he was still exhausted and was looking forward to a nap. He caught Sam's worried face and felt his smile softening into something fond. "Seriously, Sam. I'm ok. You did good last night."

Sam's face contorted briefly until it was a mask, hiding the concern that Dean knew was still there, but he nodded at Dean and got in the car. Mentally, Dean groaned. Sam was going to mother hen him to death for the next few days, he just knew it. If he was lucky, he might still get to have some “thank God you’re alive sex” when they stopped for the night. So long as he played his cards right. Dean settled into his seat, smiling as Sam turned on the car and pulled them out of the lot. Sam might be on the wrong side of the car, but this was how things were supposed to be. Him, Sam, and the Impala, driving off into the sunset.


End file.
